


don't leave me out in the rain

by pqq



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, accidental meetings, and some goddamn self esteem, contagious embarrassment, millennial! Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pqq/pseuds/pqq
Summary: "How's your night been?""You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen!"(and other scenes from an accidental and awkward courtship)





	don't leave me out in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> School has been kicking my ass, so thank you to Orangememesicle for agreeing to this informal AU exchange and forcing me to write her something, even if its not anything serious. Enjoy the shenanigans!

Bucky honestly never could have foreseen that this whole mess-- the most embarrassing night of his life-- would be the fault of the little tradition he and his roommates had started back in college. Sam, Bucky, Nat, and Clint had taken to calling it “movie night” as a cover for what it actually was: a weekly session of drunkenly crying and watching Planet Earth together on the couch.

There was really no other experience quite like weeping over marine animals and David Attenborough’s butter-smooth narration, and if pressed, none of the four would ever tell another soul. _It isn’t_ that _weird,_ Bucky reasoned. He was a weepy, dramatic drunk on his own, and so this kind of thing was just his default state. He had just happened into a living situation where he and his roommates could have a therapeutic communal weep over some awe-inspiring nature documentaries.

It was pretty weird.

It was a Saturday when it happened. The day preceding that week’s “movie night” had been uneventful-- peaceful, even. The four of them had their own little routines: Sam and Bucky would go running, Clint would stare blankly at the kitchen table while drowning himself in coffee, and Natasha, as the only roommate to have a career (though she’d never tell them what it was), would take mysterious business calls in her bedroom, away from eavesdropping ears. On Saturdays, however, each roommate would make sure to solemnly nod and say, “it's movie night,” as if to remind the others of what was to come.

“It’s movie night,” Natasha told Sam, as they both waited for the coffee machine to warm up.

“It’s movie night,” Bucky informed a sleep-deprived Clint. He hummed and went back to his nap.

By the time they’d finished episode 8: “Jungles,” it was close to midnight.

“We need breakfast food,” Natasha had called from her position curled up under Sam’s chin. She was always the first to collect herself once they’d finished, and even before then, she was the one who remained composed enough to stay in the category of “shiny eyes,” as opposed to “sobbing.” The lack of food was a problem, though. _Someone_ needed to go buy food. Bucky was pretty far past tipsy, but a look around their living room showed him that no one else would be willing to get up and run to the store on the corner. Sam had his head tilted back, and was just letting the tears dry where they fell, and Clint was sniffling on the ground, face pressed to the carpet. So Bucky did what any good roommate would do, and still wiping the tears of awe he and Sam had shed over the part with the glacier off his cheeks, he grabbed his wallet and left.

In making the decision to go grocery shopping, he didn’t take into account the fact that he’d be in the unique emotional place only created by a combination of drunkenness and nature documentaries, so a short trip to the grocery store didn’t seem quite as dangerous as he should have suspected. The trip started well; Bucky’s least favorite thing about grocery shopping, the cashier who went to his gym and said "wow, cheat day huh?" every time Bucky bought something not made purely of protein powder, wasn't working. Thrilled by the lack of judgment, Bucky cruised the aisle for anything sugary that vaguely resembled the criteria of “breakfast food.” Satisfied and with a full cart, he approached the cash register.

“Oh, wow.” The cashier was looking, stunned at the contents of the cart, and only then did Bucky take stock of how he looked; he was visibly drunk, in an XXXL hoodie that showed clear signs of recently being cried on, and with his hair haphazardly pushed up into an ugly little bun, holding a cart of at least fifteen boxes of Lucky Charms and nothing else. Worst of all though, he was standing in front of a terrified and very attractive cashier.

The man was tiny, with neatly parted blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a button up shirt, which Bucky hadn’t worn since college graduation a year ago, and khakis, which made him seem more like an intern at a large company than a cashier working the night shift. In short, he looked together. Sane. Normal. Beautiful. To Bucky, he looked like an angel. The world’s most handsome and intimidating angel.

“How’s your night been?” the angel asked, and immediately winced. Bucky could see the thought process: how could anyone in Bucky’s position be having even an okay night?

Yep, he wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. He wanted to decompose and turn into grass that David Attenborough could watch be eaten by antelopes. He scolded himself the minute he said it. He didn't deserve even that. The void should just open up beneath his feet and take him into deep deep space where he could die an embarrassment far away from attractive cashiers. Unfortunately, his mouth-- the traitor-- didn't get the memo that Bucky was the actual objective worst, and blurted out, “You're the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen!”

And well, he was telling the truth. The angel’s perfect mouth dropped open. Deep space or antelope shit would no longer cut it; Bucky deserved actual and imminent death. His attempts to murder himself through thought alone were unsuccessful, and he let out an embarrassed squeak. Here he was, a complete mess of shit, flirting with the most beautiful twink on earth by telling the stranger that he loved him, and he couldn’t even do himself the favor of just keeling over.

The cashier snapped his mouth shut and turned bright red. He looked away, and attempted to start scanning the items, like Bucky hadn’t said anything at all. Through the crashing wave of embarrassment, he could hear David Attenborough’s voice: _The heterosexual, frightened, attempts to escape, but is cornered by the threat of unemployment._

Bucky can't believe this honestly; he never would have thought that he would corner someone and flirt with them while they were working. It's a dick move, and Bucky hates himself for it. As if to make the man even more uncomfortable, Bucky bursts into tears. He manages to hiccup out an, “I’m sorry!” before abandoning his cart and stumbling out the store and up the street towards the safety of his apartment.

_The homosexual flees, driven by its two apex predators: straight men, and embarrassment._

 

\---

 

Steve’s had what his mother would have called an interesting day. Everything most people would call “fucked up” or “shitty” or “downright unbearable,” had been just interesting to Sarah. Most of the time, Steve agreed with most people, but today might be an exception.

“That was fucked up,” his coworker Darcy said with wide eyes from across the counter. She was the only other person who worked with Steve on the night shift, and her instincts were normally better than his; she could recognize crazy when Steve thought people were just having off days. It was a useful skill to have working so late at night in this corner of Brooklyn.

And it _was_ kind of fucked up to be told something like that by a stranger. A crying stranger with wine stains on his hoodie who had looked at Steve like he held the keys to the universe. Or like he was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Which he’d told him he was. And then burst into tears.

Steve blushed again just thinking about it, because the truth was that the encounter, or whatever parallel universe he’d wandered into when he’d clocked into work late that afternoon, hadn’t been that fucked up, or shitty, or unbearable. It had been interesting. Not just Sarah-Rogers-Interesting, but _interesting._

 _What the hell just happened?_ He asked himself while fiddling unnecessarily with the cash in the till. There was no one left in the shop now, and Darcy started wheeling the man’s cart full of kids cereal back towards its proper aisle. _Was he joking?_ The man couldn’t possibly think Steve’s…

He huffed a laugh. Maybe this was just one of those things he was never gonna understand. Some handsome weeping man, a possible funeral attendee,  had called _him_ beautiful.

_Huh._

**Author's Note:**

> Please watch Planet Earth with any easily-impressing drunk nearby, I promise you it's an experience worth happening. Also, stay tuned for Steve being a mess next time, and then maybe them being messes together.


End file.
